


Only One Good Use for Snake Oil

by Just_a_Loth_Cat



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Din Djarin, Din Djarin's Helmet Stays on During Sex, Enthusiastic Consent, M/M, Shameless Smut, Smut, The Mandalorian (TV) Season 2, The Mandalorian (TV) Spoilers, helmet kink, it would look great on my floor, nice armor, sex in the desert, two cowboys just getting it on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:20:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27425599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_a_Loth_Cat/pseuds/Just_a_Loth_Cat
Summary: Cobb always heard that sometimes bounty hunters... had a good time before life or death missions. So, the night before the fight with the krayt dragon, he propositions Mando.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth
Comments: 24
Kudos: 327





	Only One Good Use for Snake Oil

**Author's Note:**

> Could a depressed person make THIS?

Tatooine's nights were breathtaking. The planet, unlike the megatropolises at the Core, was so remote that when the suns sank below the horizon, the desert and the sky kissed. It was like the whole galaxy opened wide; the stars wheeled and danced twinkling across the night sky. Cobb Vanth had front row seats to the best show in the galaxy.

Or, the second-best, Cobb was beginning to think. Because he couldn't seem to keep his eyes on the stars tonight. Instead, his gaze kept darting to the sharp silhouette of the Mandalorian across the fire. Oh, the bounty hunter was being perfectly innocuous; he was keeping quiet conversation with one or another of the Tuskens. One of the elders, Cobb thought, but he couldn't really tell them all apart. Although he was beginning to pick out individual voices beneath their fearsome masks.

Mando's attention, though, was split. His little boy snoozed softly in one arm, limiting the conversion. Cobb hadn't ever really understood the appeal of children, but watching the way that little green fellow made Mando melt  _ did  _ things to him. 

And under normal circumstances, Cobb woulda left it at that: at most he would have had a quick tug out in the dark to get it out of his system. However, being a practical kind of man, Cobb knew that there was a decent chance that the fight with the krayt dragon tomorrow might be his last. And those kinda stakes got a man's blood boiling.

Just as that thought finished fully forming in Cobb's mind, Mando rose with a murmur of goodbye to the Tusken and retreated to where he'd set up a nest for the little one. Cobb, knowing it was now or never, rose to follow. He didn't make a secret that he was following the Mandalorian, but he kept his gait light and his body language casual. He held his helmet under his arm.

When the boy was tucked safely into bed and his breathing had deepened into proper sleep, Mando's helmet tilted up toward Cobb. "Can I help you?"

"Actually, I was wonderin' if we might be able to help each other," Cobb said with what he thought was a rather winning smile. Mando didn't immediately respond. Maybe he was being too obtuse?

"Ya  _ know," _ he cajoled, "I could… show you a good time. I really appreciate everything you've done for me and for Mos Pelgo. Let me show you how much." In fact, as he said it, Cobb rather liked the idea.

"I'm not looking for that kind of payment," the Mandalorian said bluntly. "You don't owe me anything - "

"Nah, nah," Cobb interrupted easily. "Nuthin' like that. Just. Blow off some steam before a big job. I hear that's a thing bounty hunters are into, right? Enjoy yourself today 'cause you might not survive tomorrow?" 

When Mando was silent for a few too many seconds, Cobb threw up his hands in casual defeat. "Hey, no worries! Don't mean nuthin' by it, but a man's gotta try, right?" When the Mandalorian still said nothing, Cobb began to back off. No need to upset the speeder when there was already massiff on your tail. 

"Alright," Mando said suddenly. "But the helmet stays on." It took Cobb a moment to figure out what Mando was talking about, but when he did, he lit up.

"Sure! I mean, I don't have any objection. Want me to wear mine?" He pulled his dented bucket on. Somehow, Mando managed to look exasperated even with the helmet. Still, he rose to follow. 

Cobb, being himself a thinking man, led them away from the Tuskens' fires to the relative privacy of their parked speeders. Here, it was dark and quiet. Cobb pushed Mando down to sit on his bike, figuring he'd be more comfortable with his own equipment near at hand.

He backed off and started undressing himself real slow, whistling an old mining tune to stay in beat. Swinging his hips to the rhythm of his own song, Cobb began with his vambraces and gloves, but made sure to be careful with the Beskar as he set it in the sand. He knew it was made of stronger stuff than he could damage, but disrespect seemed a great way to kill the mood. 

For a moment, he wondered if all of this was even peaking Mando's fancy, but then Cobb saw the way the visor of that infamous Mandalorian helmet followed his every move. He was entranced by the show, Cobb flattered himself. He was pretty confident that it wasn't only Mando's shoulders that were stiff beneath that armor. 

Still making a show of it, Cobb slipped undone the hidden laces that held his breastplate on and lifted it over his head, setting it beside the rest of his armor. As his song hit its crescendo, Cobb spun around dramatically, popping the buttons on his shirt as he went. He shucked his shirt, leaving his pert nipples open to the cold desert air, and took a deep breath, enjoying the way the breeze prickled across his skin. 

Now in just his trousers, boots, helmet, and kerchief, Cobb did his best to hold Mando's gaze. "Should I keep going?" he asked softly. 

"Yes." The Mandalorian sounded hoarse beneath his helmet, and Cobb felt a little thrill of success. 

With perhaps embarrassing speed, Cobb kicked off his boots and pulled off his belts. As his trousers slouched low, Cobb's erect cock became very apparent. The Mandalorian's visor dropped just a millimeter and beneath his own helmet Cobb grinned; he knew he was a good-looking specimen. 

It was that burst of confidence that had him strolling forward and resting his hands on Mando's armored thighs. "Can I help you with yours?"

"The helmet stays - "

" - on," he said calm and easy. "I remember."

Taking off the Mandalorian's armor was very different from removing his own, Cobb learned. There were entire pieces missing from his set (useful pieces that covered important fleshy bits), that made him spend several extra minutes exploring. Not that he was complaining: Mando groaned downright erotically as Cobb's fingers wandered along the seams of his armor. 

First to go were Mando's tassets and greaves; Cobb was as respectful with them as he was with his own armor, if not moreso. The perfect Beskar was fucking  _ intimidating. _ The legs beneath the armor were no less solid, and Cobb couldn't help but take a moment to run his hands over the Mandalorian's muscled thighs. 

Almost without thinking about it, he dropped to his knees in front of Mando, who was still half-sagged against his bike. As Cobb's knees hit the sand, Mando let out an obscene gasp. Cobb finally shucked his helmet and looked up at Mando, licking his lips. His thumb found the divot between Mando's thigh and hip and massaged gentle circles there. "Whatcha say to getting these off and lettin' me blow you, huh?"

"Are you always this… amiable with your hired help?" Mando gasped, legs splaying wider in silent invitation. 

"Only with the ones who demand I strip at first meeting." Cobb chuckled, then shrugged. "I ain't done enough business like this to make a habit of it, but I  _ like _ you, Mando. That enough?"

After a few moments, that shiny silver helmet bobbed in consent. "Yeah. Yeah, alright. Give me a second, I have protection." And from one of his pockets, the Mandalorian pulled out a condom. With a rakish smile, Cobb divested Mando of his trousers and pants, revealing his cock. It, and Mando's thighs, were the color of sand at twilight, warm and dusky. Curving slightly as it rose against his thigh, Mando's dick was just big enough that Cobb wasn't confident he could just jump right in. 

He took the proffered protection and rolled it on. Then, mouth watering, Cobb took the base of Mando's cock gently but firmly in hand and wrapped his lips around the head. He sucked down until his lips met his fingers and began bobbing his head, running his tongue along the underside. Mando tasted like sweat, sand, and something foreign and unidentifiable that made a shiver go straight up Cobb's spine.

He felt Mando's gloved fingers run through his hair, putting gentle pressure on the back of his neck. With some hesitancy, like he was waiting for Cobb to stop him, the Mandalorian rolled his hips and set a steady pace. Cobb moaned to show his approval and took Mando deeper. It was a bit clumsy, and a line of drool dribbled over his fingers.

Above him, Mando moaned obscenely and his hips stuttered as he fought the instinct to pound into Cobb's mouth. While he might not have minded a bit of rough treatment, Cobb knew how to appreciate a gentleman. Breathing through his nose, he took to wringing a few more of those beautiful noises out of the bounty hunter. He loosened one hand from the base of Mando's cock and instead took Mando's balls in hand, rolling them gently. His partner let out a long, low groan.

Cobb had, admittedly, a bit of a one-track mind, and it took him a moment to realize that the gentle hair pulling was an attempt to get his attention and not just encouragement. He pulled back with a messy pop and settled back on his knees, grinning up at Mando. "How ya doin'?" he asked, voiced wrecked from cock-sucking.

Mando didn't look much better; he was still slouched against the bike, but only just barely, and his dick hung hard and proud beneath his Beskar chest plate. "Good," he croaked. "You?"

"Sure, I'm great," Cobb said honestly. "What can I do for you?"

"I want you to fuck me," Mando said, voice steady.

A bit taken aback, Cobb said, "You sure?" When that helmet just  _ looked  _ at him, he grinned. "Alright. I'd be much obliged."

That led to a bit of a scramble as Mando searched his pockets for another condom and Cobb went scrambling for his belt, praying that he still had it -  _ yes! _ He extracted a little green transparisteel bottle triumphantly; the Marshall had taken it, and a few other suspect viles, from a snake oil salesman who'd passed through town trying to scam his people. This one was full of cooking oil he'd been trying to pass off as a cure-all tonic.

Cobb could think of much better uses for it.

When he turned around, Mando was already bent over the speeder, ass out. Cobb's mouth went dry. Unconsciously fingering the bottle, Cobb ran a hand over Mando's gorgeous ass, warm in the cool desert air. "Alright, I got oil. Gonna prep you, here. You let me know if you want me to stop or do something different, won't you, Beautiful?" he crooned to that ass. 

He must have been getting better at reading the man under the helmet, because the look Mando gave him as he passed back the condom was nearly sultry. Fingers slicked with oil, Cobb put a bracing hand on Mando's back as he worked in the first finger, trying to set an even pace and keep this part pleasant. After a few seconds, when Mando's breathing evened out, Cobb moved his hand from Mando's back to his flagging cock and tugged him through the stretch. 

By the time Cobb added more oil and a second finger, Mando had started to move with the rhythm. He could feel them both getting impatient but more oil and a third finger were added before Mando grunted, "I'm ready." He sounded utterly wrecked beneath his helmet.

"Yeah, I'd say so," Cobb said with a wink. "Gimme a second." 

With a few deft motions, Cobb had pulled on the condom and lubed himself up with more oil. He lined himself up with Mando's hole, letting his dick catch on the stretched ring of muscle waiting there for him. "You let me know if you need me to slow down or stop."

"What I need is for you to  _ put it in me," _ Mando snapped, and Cobb couldn't get any clearer consent than that. 

He pushed into Mando, all their preparation allowing for an easy entrance, and Cobb let out a long, low groan. The Mandalorian felt amazing, his burning heat contrasted against the cold desert air made Cobb shiver pleasantly all over. He did otherwise try to stay still and politely give Mando a moment to adjust to the stretch.

After several seconds, Mando growled, "I'm ready. Move!"

Cobb's hips stuttered to life; it took him a moment to get back to the easy, rolling pace he'd begun, but he found it again. Then, on the next thrust, Mando pushed back, taking Cobb in deeper. The Marshall moaned wantonly, taken by surprise. The new pace Mando set was punishing, and the wet slap of flesh echoed on the night air. 

Mando groaned and his gloved fists clenched where they held onto the speederbike. Cobb was getting close. He'd barely touched himself, but all the foreplay already had him hard and aching. Now, pounding deep into heat of Mando's ass, he was getting fucking close. 

Cobb snaked an arm around Mando's waist and found his cock hanging hard and heavy between his legs. Matching Mando's thrusts, Cobb jerked him off. It only took a few tugs before the Mandalorian came gasping and shuddering. Cobb worked him through it, fighting off his own orgasm until he felt Mando relax against the speederbike.

His partner sated, Cobb took the opportunity to finish himself. He pulled nearly all the way out of Mando's ass and pushed back in a couple of times. That's all it really took before he was coming undone. He pulled out of Mando and draped himself over the other man, never mind that the Beskar dug uncomfortably into his bare chest. 

They lay like that for several long moments, catching their breath, until a cold wind blew over Cobb's back, cooling his drying sweat and making him shiver. He pulled away and stumbled bowlegged over to his discarded clothes and armor. After a moment of clumsy searching, he found a spare rag and returned to help clean up. The Mandalorian rose slowly, stretching and beginning to clean himself up, as well.

They worked in quiet tandem, cleaning and dressing in the cool desert night. Cobb found his eyelids drooping. Oh, he was going to sleep well tonight.

"Ready for the fight tomorrow?" Mando asked into the quiet.

"After a nap, I could take on the Empire herself," Cobb slurred with a tired grin. It wasn't even a lie.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is what I've been doing to stave off the panic attacks this week. I hope all of you out there are taking care of yourselves and staying safe.
> 
> And for those wondering where Part III of Sympathy for the Devil is, it's coming. I just needed a bit of a palate cleanser. And, you know, it's been a week. But I promise, it's marinating in the background.
> 
> As always, extra special awesome thanks to my beta @ilovedyoubananakin. You always know how to spell weird Star Wars words.
> 
> Leave a comment, if you're vibing.
> 
> Lothcat


End file.
